


A Modern Romance

by rainbow_letters



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 10:12:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12297039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbow_letters/pseuds/rainbow_letters
Summary: “Oh, by the way I was almost murdered in my tent.” She spoke nonchalantly. Sherlock’s eyes remained glued to the phone screen.“Are you listening to me?” Her elevated pitch interrupted his thoughts.“Yes, someone tried to get into your tent and murder you. Clearly they were unsuccessful.”





	A Modern Romance

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little one shot inspired by the prompt 'She showed up at his door, soaking wet, bruised and covered in glitter.' and the modern world we so wonderfully live in.

She showed up at his door, soaking wet, bruised and covered in glitter. 

"Don't." She spoke sternly as the summer downpour hammered down around her. Molly's eyes shone with a murderous look whilst his own gleamed with delight and smugness. "You owe me. Big time." She swung the rucksack off of her back, dumped it at his feet and pushed passed the familiar door of 221b. 

His nose twitched as she went by him and the scent of wet dog invaded his nostrils. He picked the bag up effortlessly and turned back into the hall to see Molly had already reached the landing above. He carried it into the building but no further than the bottom of the stairs. 

"Mrs Hudson, I have a rather large present for you. It’s outside of your door." He shouted. Then he proceeded to take the stairs two at a time up to his flat; he didn't bother to wait for a response from his landlady. 

"NOT YOUR HOUSEKEEPER SHERLOCK!" She cried up the stairs, but he heard her drag the large rucksack across the wooden floor into her flat. 

He walked into the living room and observed the trail of wet mud, which had dripped off of the bottom of Molly's wellington boots. He followed it to where the track stopped when he noticed the culprits of the ghastly sludge in a collapsed pile in the middle of the kitchen. He stuck out one of his Santoni cladded feet and pushed the wellies aside under the table. He heard the toilet flush and the bathroom door opened, Molly staggered with the grace of a zombie into the kitchen. 

"I never thought I'd see the day I would cry out of happiness over a porcelain toilet seat." She yawned animatedly. She slugged past him into the living room and crashed onto the sofa. Sherlock followed her out of the room like a dog waiting for a treat from its master. 

"So, the suspected dealer of the drug that causes a side effect of murderous sleep walkers is who I thought it was?" Molly muffled something that sounded like 'yes' from where her face was pressed into the sofa cushions. His phone pinged signalling a new email and on instinct Sherlock removed it from his suit pocket, his attention briefly diverted from the matter at hand. 

“Oh, by the way I was almost murdered in my tent.” She spoke nonchalantly. Sherlock’s eyes remained glued to the phone screen. 

“Are you listening to me?” Her elevated pitch interrupted his thoughts. 

“Yes, someone tried to get into your tent and murder you. Clearly they were unsuccessful.” His eyes scanned over the ugly coloured bruise on her leg as he continued to type. Molly caught his eyes on her thigh. 

“Don’t worry about the bruising, he turned out worse than I did. A lot worse, actually. I didn’t have much choice when the only weapon available was a crate of Strongbow.” Molly pressed her index finger into her bruise as it briefly turned white before it darkened once more. 

Sherlock eyes blinked rapidly in succession and his fingers stopped abruptly. He may have hurt Molly's feelings more times than he could count over the years, but he made a mental note to never piss her off any time soon. He promptly cleared his throat. 

“Did you at least record the event?” Molly scoffed at his question. An image of John popped into his mind with his arms crossed and his face disappointed. 

_Not good._

“Erm, like I said I was too busy trying not to be killed by a drug induced sleep walking nutjob. Also, maybe next time you take on a case maybe _you_ should try seeing it through to the end. I think at least you’re the one who deserves to be attacked by a man wielding a pair of steel capped wellies.” At this point, she had propped herself up onto her elbows and stared at him with well-deserved daggered eyes. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m far too recognisable to undertake this sort of field work." He answered defensively and then he noticed the daggers in her eyes now in the process of being sharpened. "But, I suppose you have a valid point about the recording. I, erm, it's good you were not harmed.” Sherlock gulped and Molly smiled at him. “But you do have something for me to work with?” He shuffled around the back of the sofa and averted her gaze. He had suffered far too much emotional 'feeling' for one day. 

Molly reluctantly withdrew her arms from her sides and tucked her hand down into her bra and held her hand out to him. An iPhone laid in her outstretched palm.

"Yes, all video and photographic evidence is on this device. Now you can run to Lestrade who will hopefully deck you for having a pathologist go undercover on a drug busting mission without his consent. Oh, and without any form of gratitude." She spoke quickly and her voice clearly showed her tiredness and irritability. He replaced his phone back inside his inner suit pocket and picked the phone out of her palm. 

"Not my problem our drug dealer has a thing for slim, petite and pretty brunettes." Molly cast him a surprised glance, she seemed unsure whether he realised he had just described her as pretty. Out loud. Sherlock didn't respond instead his eyes scanned back and forth across the images and videos she had taken. He smiled brightly as he listened to the voice memos she had cleverly recorded. Molly stayed quiet and watched him as he collated the evidence into his mind palace. 

"Excellent." His mouth curled up into a smile akin to the Grinch as he viewed the final clip. 

"I'm still waiting for a thank you." She piped up, satisfied he had now concluded this case. 

"And you're getting glitter and mud on the sofa." He spoke to his phone as he dialled Greg's number. He paced around her as the phone dialled out. 

"Not my problem kids these days are obsessed with glitter. Seriously, I thought people went to festivals to see how many drugs they can consume in a weekend without accidentally topping themselves, not to showcase Topshop's entire summer collection." Her head bounced off of the pillow as she gave in to her exhaustion. 

"They still do that now. The glitter, extravagant and questionable dress sense hides the bulging eyes, so mummy and daddy can't see how out of it their children are when they post photo's all over social media of the 'best weekend of their lives'." He spoke apathetically as Greg's voice suddenly bellowed from his phone. "Lestrade, I think you'll want to come and see what I have got for you." He heard Molly scoff at the word 'I'. "Trust me this is tastier than the KFC boneless banquet for two you are about to tuck into." With that he hung up, knowing the detective inspector would be over within the next twenty minutes. 

\-------------------------------- 

"Molly, how do chips-" His words silenced and his lips formed a perfect 'o' shape as he watched her sleep soundly on his sofa. He had left the flat for five minutes whilst Lestrade took him aside and bollocked him for potentially endangering Molly, which she so accurately predicted. Sherlock picked out the flaws, which were many, in his argument and an exasperated Greg snatched the phone from Sherlock's hand and left. 

He crouched beside her and picked her up bridal style. He calculated that with her only having less than ten hours sleep over three days it was unlikely she would wake. Her head lolled against his shoulder, her chin tucked into her neck as he carried her down the hall. She mumbled sleepy gibberish against his chest and his attention was drawn back to her face and the heavy bags under her eyes, partially hidden by the hideous amounts of glitter that had started to flake off of her skin.

He reached the desired destination and easily eased Molly down. He watched her for a moment as she curled into a foetal position and he bent down and placed a thoughtful kiss to her temple. 

"Thank you, Molly Hooper." He mumbled low and quiet. 

He stood up and smirked once more before he turned the shower head on full. He watched her reaction for no more than a few seconds, her eyes and mouth grew wide and she spluttered underneath the spray. He sprinted quickly out of the bathroom before her brain caught up with what had just happened. 

"Sherlock Holmes! I will kill you and most definitely make it look like murder when I get out of here." He heard her shout as he reached the safety of the kitchen. 

"I warned you, you were getting glitter all over my sofa. There's a towel on the heat rack and a clean set of pyjamas in my bedroom. Your preferred shampoo, conditioner and shower gel are on the side of the bath." He called as he edged his head around the corner to check she wasn't coming to attack him. Instead he watched as a stream of wet clothes were flung onto a messy pile outside of the bathroom door, a small puddle quickly formed on the wooden floor. "I'll go get us some chips and then you can thank me when I get back." He shouted, so she could hear over the spray of the shower. He opened the door from the kitchen onto the landing when he heard her call to him. 

"Wait! Seeing as you're on your way out you can take those clothes down to Mrs Hudson. I know you've dumped that rucksack on her." She yelled back and he rolled his eyes and turned on his heels back down the hall. He crouched down to pick up the pile, when a pair of crimson red lace knickers landed on his shoulder. With a tentative pinkie finger, he lifted the pants from his suit jacket and gulped hard. He heard the shower curtain pull back on its rail and he turned his head up to see Molly's face peeked out from behind it. A cheeky grin appeared across her features, a couple of specks of glitter still adorned her face. 

"Pyjamas, Sherlock?" His mouth went dry. He hadn't expected her to read too much into his choice of clothing for her. One thing he should have learnt by now; Molly Hooper was still very good at surprising him. 

"I thought you would be too tired to travel across London back to your flat." He tried to answer as matter-of-factly as possible, but it was a poor ruse and Molly clearly wasn't falling for it. "Plus, it's the final of Game of Thrones. I thought we could watch it together." He tried to salvage his composure as he finally dropped the knickers onto the pile of clothes. 

"But, you don't watch Game of Thrones?" Molly cocked an eyebrow at him. 

"Correction, I didn't. But then John told me there's a man in it who looks a lot like Mycroft so I erm, what's the term... binge watched? Yes, I binge watched six seasons, plus the current one in a week and now I'm emotionally invested in a television show for the first time in my life." Molly laughed, which caused her hold on the curtain to falter slightly. Sherlock caught a glimpse of the top of her breasts and he felt his brain start to freeze like the Night King himself had touched it with his own fingers. "Erm, so yes chips and Game of Thrones?" He tried to compose himself and dragged his eyes up to Molly's deep brown ones. 

"Sounds perfect." She gave him a coy smile and her head disappeared behind the curtain. 

Sherlock moved almost on autopilot, the pile of clothes on the floor laid forgotten. He walked into the living room and shrugged into his Belstaff that was hung over the back of his chair. He then moved out onto the landing and down the stairs. He briefly rested his back and head against the black, wooden door and closed his eyes. Five seconds later he opened them and looked back up the stairs. He thought of Molly naked in his bathtub and how she was approximately going to spend the next fourteen hours with him in his flat. 

He wondered if Barry at the fish and chip shop had something stronger than vinegar to sprinkle onto his extra-large portion of chips.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Strongbow (for those not who don't know) is one of the starter alcoholic beverages teens in the UK usually start out on before they progress through the ranks. Well, from personal experience...
> 
> Also, shout out to Mark Gatiss' little cameo in GOT. (Seriously, if you haven't watched it yet what have you been doing with your life.) 
> 
>  
> 
> BONUS AFTER THOUGHT  
> Mrs Hudson comes up the stairs the following morning with all of Molly's clothes cleaned and ironed. She walks in on the pair of them cuddling in bed and asks if they would both like a cup of tea. Sherlock tugs the duvet over his head and Molly says that a cup of tea would be lovely.


End file.
